Some pray exemption from Life’s crushing laws
And cheer God’s healing work when done
In spite of doctors’ skill and care
Like Christ etal who worked direct
And skipped the middleman.
They cite five thousand fed that day
And claim expansion of their paltry lunch
Of halting word and scanty hermeneutic
From one whose heart was merciful to give
His Son with wounds and stripes to heal
The sick and bind the broken-hearted.
In from the margins others pray that God
A steady hand might give, sharp eye, quick thought,
And deft effectual action to his teams of healing workers –
Called, trained, equipped, and set in place
To mediate His love and mercy through their action.
These also cite five thousand fed
But note how each their lunches hid
In panniers by their sides – except one boy
Who offered fish and two small loaves
To Christ who blessed the action publicly
Replacing promised hearts of flesh
For hearts of stone and self-enhancing spirit.
Two thousand years – not much has changed –
The skill-to-people numbers up
But ratios holding steady –
And at the core they research more as snake-wrapped sword
They wield to crush or skirt life’s finite laws
And bring fresh mercy to long healing-lines
Close pressing for some cure.
Disdain flows out as margins tout their faith-grasped
Venomous snakes’-oil cure –
Drawn from a line of silent shuffling feet
To one who wielded hopeful prayers for faith’s exemption.
Nearby five thousand medics on their lawns
With lunches hid in panniers by their sides –
From waiting lines and poorer kinds –
Foreswear these boys with snake-oil toys.
Perhaps it’s time to pray the Christ-child
Once more bless small proffered lunch –
And switch these medics' stones to hearts of flesh.